Mythological Narratives, Scientific Imaginations
From Kalki 2898 AD, Brahmastra, and beyond, Indian cinema has become oversaturated with sci-fi films that focus on motifs from religion and mythology, fixating on technical effects rather than innovative ideas and storytelling.
While watching Kalki 2898 AD (2024), one scene particularly stood out to me: the introduction of Prabhas’s character, Bhairava. Up until that point, the film had been meticulously laying the groundwork for its dystopian world, carefully establishing its rules and setting the tone. However, this was abruptly undermined by Bhairava’s entry. The scene was filled with lacklustre action sequences requiring minimal physical efforts from Prabhas, forced religious symbolism, and humour that felt juvenile at best. It was clear that the filmmakers were relying on Prabhas’ star power, heavy-handed deity comparisons, and impressive CGI to mask the fact that the character was poorly developed and denied the gravitas it should have carried.
Unfortunately, this isn’t an isolated case in Indian science fiction. The genre often leans, primarily, on religious motifs and, more recently, on technical effects not to enrich the storytelling, but to paper over weak writing and poorly crafted dialogue.
Beyond its technical prowess and intriguing storyline, Kalki 2898 AD reflects this broader trend of Indian sci-fi intertwining with Hindu mythology. Films such as Brahmāstra: Part One – Shiva (2022) and Rudraksha (2004) are also examples of this trend. Box office success for both Kalki and Brahmāstra hints at a growing appetite for such stories. What are the reasons behind their rise in popularity, and their broader impact on the Indian film industry?
The box office success of Brahmāstra illustrated that audiences were willing to overlook deficiencies in writing and screenplay, if the technical elements offered a spectacle. This phenomenon is echoed in the reception of Kalki, where criticisms of dialogue, narrative, and screenplay are overshadowed by praise for CGI prowess and the fusion of mythology within a post-apocalyptic setting.
Rudraksh (2004) is an early foray into this genre. Set in the 21st century, Rudraksh chronicles the quest of a power-hungry man (Suneil Shetty) for a rudraksh (spiritual beads) that could revive the dominion of the Asuras. He is countered by Varun (Sanjay Dutt), the embodiment of virtue, fighting to thwart him. Despite its promising premise, the film disappoints in execution: its script, visual effects, and cast performances fail to impress, inadvertently rendering it more comedic than captivating. This phenomenon can be observed in many sci-fi films of the 2000s and 2010, including Love Story 2050, Naksha, and A Flying Jatt, where potentially intriguing narratives are undermined by inefficient execution, notably in the department of CGI, visual effects, and action sequences.
The challenges faced by Indian sci-fi have been multifaceted. Indian cinema, notably, never had the lavish budgets of its Hollywood counterparts during that era. For instance, while Rudraksh had a budget of ₹15 crores, the first Iron Man film boasted a staggering ₹1171 crores. Budget distribution too, often disproportionately favoured paying exorbitant fees to lead actors, thereby inadequately funding production values. Lack of expertise in CGI and VFX too presented formidable hurdles, particularly within the realm of sci-fi. Additionally, Indian producers often underestimated the sci-fi audience, erroneously perceiving it to be solely composed of children, which led to overly simplistic narratives and a dearth of imaginative depth.
Indian producers, disheartened by a series of setbacks, adopted a sceptical approach towards this genre, categorizing it as a precarious investment rather than nurturing its artistic potential and refining their own craftsmanship. Meanwhile, audiences were sporadically treated to sci-fi films that barely aspired to excellence. This left Indian viewers disillusioned and longing for a genuinely captivating science fiction narrative, a sentiment particularly strong among viewers who came of age during the ascent of revered franchises such as Planet of the Apes, Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films, Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, and the MCU. The late Millennial and Gen-Z audience harboured a profound yearning for an Indian superhero or science fiction epic, but were met with sad attempts at mediocrity.
This yearning heralded the potential for an ambitious sci-fi film, which earnestly pursued success. It conveyed a message that resonated with young creators like Ayan Mukerji, Nag Ashwin, and Prasanth Varma, who had once probably been disheartened spectators, if not careful observers, now capitalized on their insights. Brahmastra and Kalki 2898 AD stand as visual marvels and milestones in Indian cinema’s VFX landscape, significantly bolstering their popularity. Despite Brahmastra being subjected to rightful scrutiny for its screenplay and dialogues upon release, audiences flocked to theatres en masse, enticed by the promise of a visually captivating experience. The concept of a contemporary world imbued with astras (supernatural weapons) in a modern setting, the pursuit of the omnipotent Brahmastra, and dynamic action sequences complemented by Pritam’s stellar musical score, all contributed to its appeal. Even if its narrative fell short, it was a film that ambitiously aimed for greatness; for the Indian audience, that was good enough.
The box office success of Brahmāstra illustrated that audiences were willing to overlook deficiencies in writing and screenplay, if the technical elements offered a spectacle. This phenomenon is echoed in the reception of Kalki, where criticisms of dialogue, narrative, and screenplay are overshadowed by praise for CGI prowess and the fusion of mythology within a post-apocalyptic setting. Perhaps this trend stems from enduring years of subpar technical effects in cinema. While uncertain, such a scenario remains plausible.
However, this merely marks the beginning of a prolonged transformation, and thus certain constants persist, particularly in how science fiction is perceived by producers. This is still considered to be a risky genre for investment, given that its relatively recent track record of success. The substantial financial commitment required and low success rates over the years render such films—in the eyes of producers—a volatile investment.
Consequently, producers—and by extension writers—are compelled to incorporate ‘commercially appealing’ elements into their works. This typically materializes in unnecessary musical interludes like “Kesariya” in Brahmāstra and “Ta Ta Takkara” in Kalki. These films feature romantic subplots that add little to the narrative, exemplified by Alia Bhatt and Disha Patani's roles in the respective films.
Commercial appeal has also nudged filmmakers to shift towards themes believed to draw audiences to theatres—particularly mythology. India is undeniably a deeply religious society, where the daily life of people is intertwined with religious beliefs. From childhood, Indians are habituated with localized renditions of myths and legends and watching their live-action retellings. Consequently, these narratives hold an emotional significance, capable of eliciting keen interest and excitement.
If portrayed skilfully, mythologies and legends of the subcontinent are filled with captivating tales that can resonate with the masses. It cannot be denied that such films are also a safer option when it comes to ensuring returns on investment.
An accurate example of this cultural phenomenon was the anticipatory excitement surrounding the film Adipurush (2023). Even before any marketing snippets were unveiled, public enthusiasm was palpable, as it was a live-action portrayal of the Ramayana. Similarly, content creators like Tried and Refused Productions jumped to fancast actors and directors for the Mahabharata web series, soon after its production was announced by Disney+ Hotstar. The integration of religious themes in cinematic narratives serves as a protective shield against the perceived financial instability of the genre, inherently generating curiosity and positive reception.
I am not implying that compelling narratives cannot be woven from Hindu myths or mythology. If portrayed skilfully, mythologies and legends of the subcontinent are filled with captivating tales that can resonate with the masses. It cannot be denied that such films are also a safer option when it comes to ensuring returns on investment. Tumbbad (2018), although not a science fiction film, is a prime example of mythology being used to its fullest potential.
Another reason for the frequent inclusion of religion-centered narratives in Indian sci-fi is the evolving socio-political climate of Indian society, particularly in recent years. Since the rise of the BJP after 2014, India’s cultural landscape and its interplay with religion have been profoundly (and lastingly) affected. Religious identity has assumed unprecedented significance, with the assertion of one community’s religious and social dominance (often at the expense of other identities) becoming increasingly commonplace. While the broader implications of these changes warrant a different and more elaborate discussion, my focus here is on how these shifts have influenced the Indian audience’s engagement with films.
The evolution of Indian society has indeed incentivized some new genres, including the fusion of mythology with fiction or science fiction. The renewed sense of pride among Indians—particularly within the Hindu community—in their ancient pantheon and its epic tales only increased the preexisting demand for narratives such as Brahmāstra, Kalki, and even the Telugu film Hanu-Man (2024).
First envisioned in 2020, Brahmāstra: Part One – Shiva emerged against the backdrop of the unmistakable cultural and ideological impact of the BJP regime on Indian society. In his post-release interviews the director Ayan Mukerji revealed that his original vision for the film in 2014 did not include such deep mythological connections. It was only later that these aspects were integrated into the storyline, showing a deliberate change in his approach to the story. Mukerji discussed the deliberate and conscious changes he made to his story over the years, and how the film, originally named “Dragon”, soon evolved into Brahmāstra. Mukerji does not explicitly state socio-cultural shifts as his primary motivation, nor am I suggesting this. Indian mythology is rich with untapped potential, with numerous stories with epic potential if told correctly—tales so compelling that any creator would be tempted to retell them. But it is not far-fetched to suggest that socio-cultural changes influenced the modifications made to the plot, considering that it happened during a period when the BJP was expanding its electoral and ideological influence across India. Nag Ashwin’s work on Kalki 2898 AD may have been shaped by the same cultural context.
As an audience member and sci-fi enthusiast, I hope that, as more projects like Brahmāstra, Kalki, and Hanu-Man are produced, viewers become less impressed by high-quality CGI. Distracted by visual effects, there has been a tendency to overlook flaws in these films, leading creators to ignore writing and coherent plotlines. This often results in films that merely please the senses through a barrage of spectacles, without much substance.
Another concern for this genre is its possible oversaturation. Formulaic filmmaking is a plague that has infected all forms of mainstream cinema, where a successful project becomes the template for future endeavours, aiming to replicate the same success by recreating elements of the project—instead of focusing on new, compelling narratives. In India, the emergence of remakes is an example of this formulaic approach in its most bare-naked form. It is a possible that the success of films like Brahmāstra or Kalki will lead to an excessive focus on mythological science fiction, causing other sub-genres of science fiction to suffer, with innovative ideas remaining unexplored.
However, all hope not is lost. There have been a number of worthy Indian sci-fi projects in recent years, too, including Krrish (2006), Cargo (2019), and Minnal Murali (2021). Both Krrish and Minnal Murali largely steer clear of incorporating religious rhetoric into their central narratives. These films enjoyed considerable success, with Krrish emerging as the fourth highest-grossing film of 2006. Minnal Murali became the first Malayalam language title to trend on Netflix’s global Top 10 list for non-English films within the first week of its release. Meanwhile, Cargo, which drew on concepts from Hinduism and employed religious symbolism, avoided centring its plot around Hindu mythology, unlike Kalki or Brahmāstra.
Despite their flaws, these films have demonstrated that a well-crafted science fiction story, focused on strong writing and creative vision, can resonate with audiences, and achieve success without the need for forcibly integrated, commercially-driven elements. This is further evidenced by the audience’s repulsion to the so-called ‘commercially appealing’ aspects of sci-fi films—whether it’s the awkward comedic interlude involving Prabhas’s character in Kalki, or the unnecessary romantic subplot between Shiva and Isha in Brahmāstra. We, the audience, can only hope that this message is hammered home for the Indian producers leading to more diverse and creative projects from the genre.
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Marnina(Avirup) (they/them) is an independent queer writer and reviewer from Kolkata. They have written stories, poems and articles on subjects of Politics, Philosophy, and Contemporary Electoral Politics. A student of Political Science, they're interested politics, philosophy, political theory and social commentary through fiction. You can reach reach out to them through on Instagram @lacanpremi or on ishanavi2004@gmail.com.
